Tag: Short Stories

  • Short Story Review: “War Dogs” by Paul Yoon

    (The short story “War Dogs” by Paul Yoon appeared in the October 28th, 2024 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Illustration by Wesley Allsbrook

    I had no idea that airports have animal centers. I feel like I should have known this before, I mean, with all the time I have spent at airports and seeing all the animals that come through there, it seem obvious now. It must be such a mystifying experience for animals to be loaded on a plane, taken to some place new, and how their heightened senses discover that new place.

    If you couldn’t guess, Paul Yoon’s short story “War Dogs” takes place at an animal center at one of New York City’s airports. It is an intertwined story of animal caretakers, a veterinarian, a mother traveling to Korea, a brother and sister set of dogs from Afghanistan, and a horse. Some of these characters ran from destructive situations to start better lives, some are pulled back into their old world, some are physically changing which causes them fear, while others want the comfort of those they love.

    The story was structured in eight sections, or vignettes. Each sharing insights and developments with the characters. It was a practical form to use for this story, as Yoon’s storytelling was well balanced, so we never dwelled too long on one particular plot line. It reminded me of jazz, with the theme acting as the rhythm of the piece, with each character getting a solo. This allowed each character to get fleshed out, giving some depth, and I am being vague on poupose to not spoil this story.

    Yet, I couldn’t shake the feeling that it didn’t wrap everything up as it should have. What this piece felt like was the first chapter of a novel; characters are being introduced, goals are set, complications develop, questions are raised. But not everything is concluded, leaving many questions left in the air. In this state, I was left feeling stood up, and incomplete.

    I understand the old adage that a writer should leave the reader wanting more, but in this case I want a novel about this place, the animals, and the people. I don’t need to tell you Paul Yoon is a good writer; read this and you’ll see. And if this was the first chapter of that novel, then I bet it would be great.

  • Short Story Review: “My Camp” by Joshua Cohen

    (The short story “My Camp” by Joshua Cohen appeared in the October 21st, 2024 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Photograph by Naila Ruechel for The New Yorker

    So… What to make of “My Camp?” I guess I could say that Joshua Cohen wrote a story that I had no idea where it was going. That was refreshing. After that, I’m not sure what to think. I know I didn’t hate this story. It was a bit long; it did go on, and could have used some trimming. But, I’m just not sure…

    It started out well; lulled me into thinking this was going to be a comedic take on upstate home ownership. Then, Cohen threw a curveball, which had the story move in an altogether different direction, only to come back to the camp at the end. I’m not even sure the narrator learned or changed an any way, which normally would cause me to pan the story, but in this piece, that might have been the point?

    What I identified with was the narrator’s frustration with there not being a middle ground when it comes to October 7th, and the Gaza war. How people want the narrator to take a side, and the more pressure that is put on him, the more he digs in to not take a side. How if everyone is blindly going in one direction, you should go the opposite way. That resonated, especially in light of current events in the Mid-East.

    But I still couldn’t tell if this piece was satire, a pointed take on conviction in light of what is happening, or was this just supposed to be a joke? I would hate to think that I am clutching my pearls here, thinking it’s too soon to even remotely make any artistic comment on Gaza, as I believe one of the main reason to have art is to comment on difficult issues. Yet, wasn’t this just a story about a guy that got comfortable with scamming people so he could own a home?

    There isn’t a clear easy answer to this story, which I feel was Cohen’s point. Were people really trying to help? Does throwing money at a problem fix anything? Is greed inevitable? Is there no safety in the world and you have to take it when you get it? I could go on and on with all the questions this story brought up in me, and perhaps I should read it again. Though I don’t think that will help me find any answers. Anyway, maybe that’s just human nature – looking for answers.

    I’m open to hearing what other people think on this one. Drop a comment, let me know what you think about this story.

  • Short Story Review: “Hi Daddy” by Matthew Klam

    (The short story “Hi Daddy” by Matthew Klam appeared in the October 14th, 2024 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Photograph by Ryan Lowry for The New Yorker

    As I get older, I have this dualistic thought in my head when I think of my parents; How much I am like them, and how much I am not like them. This dualism can cause great joy, and unbelievable anxiety in me. I also know as a middle-aged man, that the more things change, the more they stay the same. With Matthew Klam’s story “Hi Daddy,” a well-intended but uneven work, he attempts to address these issues.

    Here’s my way to simple synopsis: Middle aged man says goodbye to his teenage daughter as she goes off to Europe for the summer before she starts college, and then he visits his elderly parents, realizing that he is more like his father than he wants to admit.

    Emotionally, I dug this story, and identified strongly with the narrator. There was an honesty in the narrator, that sometimes got very close to self-pity and whining, but Klam was able to pull it back in time. The narrator, in his family, has the role of primary care giver, as his wife has the job that earns the majority of their living. This role has left the narrator feeling taken for granted and left out, though his wife does point out that he is the cause of this situation, as he can be emotionally unavailable, especially to their daughter. Part of his issue stems from having trouble dealing with his daughter leaving home, and the changes that it will bring. When he visits his parents, his father has fallen and has dementia. The dementia means the father no longer recognizes the son, and the fall means that the once stoic and distant father has become feeble and dependent. Again, the theme of change, and the act of dealing with change, gives the story a weight here, and the narrator’s inability to know how to deal with these situations and emotions has a melancholic honesty to it.

    Yet, I had issues with this story, and they were all technical storytelling issues. When I finished the piece, I was left feeling unsatisfied, and that was due to none of the story threads felt wrapped up. Many emotional tangents are cast about in this story, but they don’t come back or lead to a resolution. The narrator says that he doesn’t like his parents, but the issues are with his father, so why is the mother put in the same bucket with the father? When the narrator realizes that he is becoming like his father, will that influence future actions of the narrator?

    That last one was the kicker for me, for that was the driver for the unsatisfying feeling the story created in me.

    If this is a normal “Hero’s Journey” story, then the narrator’s realization that he is like his father would then influence an action in the climax of the story, therefore allowing the hero to defeat the obstacle and view the world in a different way. The best that I can tell, the hero’s obstacle is himself, the climax has to do with the horse getting free (horse also metaphor for father/son,) yet the narrator’s actions in dealing with the horse are not influenced by his realization. If this is a normal “Rising Action, Climax, Resolution” story, then I’m not sure what to make out of the last two sections as a resolution; the thoughts the narrator has about his daughter’s choice in boyfriends and her actions towards them, and final section which is a “Dead Chick in the Basket*” cliché. That left me to believe that this whole exercise was just a meditation on the narrator dealing with a rough two days, and the narrator is the same person at the start of the story as he is at the end of the story. And if that is true, the narrator doesn’t change, then why are we being told this story?

    I will say this, “Hi Daddy” has some very fine points, and some crisp, honesty imagery and writing. Matthew Klam is writing about a character who is flawed, which is just ripe for storytelling. And it almost gets there. He just didn’t stick the landing.

    *  “Dead Chick in the Basket” refers to a writing device where the final paragraph of a short story contains new information about a character which is meant to make the reader view the actions, statements, or feelings of that character in a different light. The first known use of this device was in J.D. Salinger’s short story “Just Before the War with the Eskimos.”

  • Short Story Review: “Stories About Us” by Lore Segal

    (The short story “Stories About Us” by Lore Segal appeared in the October 7th, 2024 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Illustration by Marta Monteiro

    I love Lore Segal’s writing. And when I say that, I fully admit that I am referring to her short stories that I have read in The New Yorker. (I really need to pick up one of her novels.) I love how her short stories don’t fit neatly in any box, are elusive like trying to grasp smoke, and no matter how serious or melancholy a piece or section of a piece might be, her work leaves me feeling better, more affirming towards life.

    What is “Stories About Us,” about? I’m still not sure. I guess you could say that it five short vignettes about older women who live in New York, and talk to each other about their lives…

    “Stories About Us,” is also about being validated, being seen, being missed, the contradictions in life, inclusion as an act of grace, and the past that still lives with us.

    What I like about Segal’s writing, and this story in particular is that at the first read, I wasn’t sure what was going on, and then I thought about it, and I concluded that I knew what was going on. And then I re-read it this morning, and I’m not sure I really know what’s going on, but I’m okay with that. There is an undisputed piece of truth in each one of the sections, that is wonderful to discover, like a flower opening up. And in quick secession, Segal lets us see the thinking and insights of these characters; women who are complicated and vulnerable, having lived lives, and still want to keep exploring and experiencing. I can’t explain how Segal does it, but there is an ebb and flow to each section, working together like a piece of music, landing on a touching yet unsettling denouement.

    “Stories About Us” is a very fine work, that I might never be able to pinpoint exactly why I enjoy it so much. It also makes me think that’s why Lore Segal is Lore Segal; her writing is like music. I can say why it moves me, it just moves me when I hear it.

  • Short Story Review: “Ambrose” by Allegra Goodman

    (The short story “Ambrose” by Allegra Goodman appeared in the September 30th, 2024 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Photograph by Annie Collinge for The New Yorker

    I’m paraphrasing this, but John Lennon said the best way to become a good song writer, is that you first have to write a lot of bad songs. I think that applies to any artist; to make good art, you have to make a whole lot of bad art first. That doesn’t mean that the bad art only serves the purpose of getting the artist to their good art. No, bad art can help in so many ways. That was one of the thoughts that went through my head while reading “Ambrose” by Allegra Goodman’s effectively touching story.

    Here’s a way too short synopsis: Lily is a sixth grader who is writing a story, about the Princess Ambrose, while also dealing with the difficulties of her parent’s divorce. Elements of Lily’s life work their way into the world of Princess Ambrose.

    What Goodman’s story just smashes are the little details. The way Lily decorates her notebook that contains the story, her parents concern, the words and phrases used by grownups talking about kids, and the way Lily sees her parents sitting together when they haven’t in a long time. I appreciated how Goodman approached Lily’s struggles by never belittling them, and though the school might have over reacted, the adults in Lily’s life take her seriously. But my favorite aspect was that Lily’s story wasn’t particularly good, in regard to originality or grammar. Lily creating a “good story” really isn’t the point so much as Lily discovering, maybe subconsciously, that the issues of her life can be expressed and dealt with in the art she is creating. I felt that was a very honest and authentic way to dramatize the creation of this writer, showing us how important it is that she writes this story, even though it isn’t very good. I think lesser writers would have made Lily’s story epic, and original and well written… and that would have missed the point.

    My only criticism of the story is the ending. Not the climax, which was handled very well. No, I’m talking about the last nine paragraphs. After giving us a nice honest moment between Lily and her mother, the final scene is in Lily’s dance class with an odd fitting “deus ex machina” of a substitute dance teacher. This felt tagged on, as if to give Lily a win in the story, or to end on a button. I found it distracting because the story was taking us to a place where Lily, and her parents, are all learning that this life together will be difficult, but they will face it as a family. Just didn’t sit right with me.

    That’s not to say that I’m not recommending this story. “Ambrose” is sweet, and moves with an airy confidence that is charming. Goodman makes Lily a very interesting, and intelligent kid who is going through a time in her life which makes everything a challenge. This isn’t life and death drama, but Goodman shows how impactful moments in a six grader’s life can be.